


where does the love go? i don't know

by littlestcandle (Avelys)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Adventure, Arranged Marriage, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-23 23:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12000360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelys/pseuds/littlestcandle
Summary: Baekhyun really, really wants to be part of that world.





	1. bottom of the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> I'm about 90% done, the rest is just being edited and will be posted soonish, this is just here to prove that I'm not like OMFG MEGA PROCRASTINATINg

Strangely, the ocean was still.

It was not what Baekhyun was used to. He had lived in the sea all his life — it was in his blood, his being. He knew, as surely as he knew himself, that the waters should be tumultuous and tempestuous, alive with waves and teeming with life. The unnatural calm of his surroundings instilled within him a sense of unease, and the icy cold — far removed from the tropical waters of his home — only exacerbated that feeling. Every part of his body, every instinct, screamed that he did not belong in this place. That he should not be in this place.

He pressed on.

After all, he had a reason for this. A reason to leave the safe confines of his father's kingdom, to travel far to the north, to a place where other merfolk did not dare to tread.

It wasn't as if he never thought about turning back. It would have been all too easy to turn tail and swim back to safety, to the home he had known all his life. There was a one-way current a few miles back that he could hitch a ride on; he'd be back before sunset, and nobody would ever know what he'd been up to. And if they did, well, Chanyeol would cover for him— he always did. But Baekhyun had always possessed an uncommon amount of foolhardiness, and with the culmination of his efforts so close at hand, turning back had never really been an option.

" _Far to the north, at the edge of the sea_ ," he muttered to himself like a mantra, for what was likely the sixth time that hour. It was one line of a nursery rhyme, of a legend. He could hear it reverberating in his mind, the tale that lingered ominously in the memories of his childhood. The lair of the mythical sea witch had always been an open secret — the merfolk warned about it in their songs and bedtime stories, trusting that fear and common sense would keep their children away from the dead waters of the northern sea. And for the most part, it worked.

But here Baekhyun was. Far to the north, at the edge of the sea. 

He had come a long way from home, and a weary part of him yearned to rest. It was impossible, however; dozing off here in the frigid waters was tantamount to suicide. Hypothermia was only a few minutes away, and a frozen death would be quick to follow. And that did not even account for whatever creature lurked in the depths, hungering for the flesh of foolish merfolk.

With a renewed surge of determination, he propelled himself forward with a muscular effort from his tail.

Seconds blended into minutes into hours, with no end in sight. There was a slight edge of apprehensiveness now as he swam forth. Far to the north, at the edge of the sea. It was the only instruction he had, the only directions he knew. There were not many miles left until the boundary of the northern sea, and Baekhyun knew nothing of what lay beyond.

He began to worry. Perhaps— perhaps he had missed it. He was quite tired after all, what with having swum so far with not so much as a frail current to support him. With a seed of worry gnawing in his belly and uncertainty clawing at his mind, Baekhyun cast a glance behind him.

Nothing. It looked just as empty, just as bare as the waters of any other direction.

Treading water, he was momentarily possessed by yet another fearsome thought. He was out all alone in the desolate reaches of the ocean, far away from even the merest traces of society. Who would hear him if he screamed? Who would know if he died? He would be all alone as he succumbed to the deadly cold, or whatever dreadful fate awaiting him.

No.

Baekhyun shook his head to clear his thoughts, to rid him of doubt. It would do little good now. Forward was the answer, and forward he swam, his blind and determined eyes searching for a destination.

It was a while more before he saw it. He almost missed it, at first. It began at the very peripherals of his vision, a creeping sort of blackness— and for a fearful moment, Baekhyun feared it might be his strength failing him at last. But as he persevered, it became obvious that this was not the case. With each moment that passed, the blackness crawled closer and closer together, until they met before him in an intimidating wall, looming like both a stronghold— and a warning.

" _Far to the north, at the edge of the sea_ ," Baekhyun recited, his voice barely above a whisper. His awed eyes flitted left to right, drinking in the sight with eagerness and uncertainty. " _If witches you seek, 'tis there they will be._ "

Certainly it looked like a witch's lair. A twisted wall of pitch-black rock and deep blue ice, stretching toward the surface with all the grim tenacity of the dead. The closer he came, the more easily he could make out the etchings on the stone. Evidently, this was no natural formation: there had been a careful hand and a critical eye involved in its creation.

Though Baekhyun continued his careful approach, his pace slowed. It was involuntary. He couldn't help but feel as if he were moving toward something terrible.

Then! A sound. A movement. Something that should not have happened in waters this still.

Baekhyun stopped immediately, his heart hammering loudly against his ribcage. His eyes darted around wildly, his ears alert and ready for some kind of sign.

And then, something more unsettling that what he was feeling before: Baekhyun began to apprehend that something was watching him. Nothing so tangible as a person or figure giving themselves away, but he just knew. He could feel eyes against his person. It was something written in the fabric of his being, handed down from generations of forebears. Like the way that the prey could recognize the predator, he knew. His stomach churned, no longer only out of foreboding, but now also a kind of dread.

His first instinct was to hide, no doubt stemming from the piscine aspect of his nature. Unfortunately, in the cold and barren waters of the north, there was precious little cover. Knowing this, Baekhyun crossed his arms defensively about his person, and tried to make himself as small as possible, moving all the while.

Up close to the wall, Baekhyun found that his situation was more dire than he had initially thought. For though there was little doubt in his mind that he had indeed reached the lair of the sea witch, there was no discernible entrance either. Through the entire span of the wall, from one immense end to the other, stood nothing but solid rock. There was no cave, no door, no air bubbles to signify the existence of a hidden entrance.

Nothing.

Another sound, like something speeding through the water.

Baekhyun whirled his head around, his wary eyes scanning the area for threats. He didn’t see anything overtly fearsome, but a murky column of silt rising from the ocean floor set off his senses, made him uneasy.

"Fuck," Baekhyun muttered to himself. He could feel his pulse racing, could hear it pounding heavily in his ears. His desperate hands clawed at the rocky surface, seemingly with lives of their own. He prayed that he would find something — anything — but really, he didn’t feel very optimistic. He was at only one point on a wall that must have spanned several large miles, and the entrance to the witch's lair could be on any damn part of it. Though his fingers continued their wild search, each inch that they traversed was another inch closer to his impending doom, and he could feel the fleeting remnants of hope diminishing. Baekhyun could hear it now, oh god he could hear it, the rush of the water as whatever it was behind him hurtled toward him at top speed — 

Something slimy and cold brushed against him. Tentacles circled his wrists, before shackling him with a powerful grip. One curled around his neck loosely, ready to constrict at any moment.

This was how he died. Cold, alone, and far away from home. His eyes fluttered closed, as his life flashed before his eyes. Pictures. Memories.

"Who are you?" The voice was all steel edge and cold frost, and Baekhyun winced as he heard it. "What are you doing here, little mer?"

_Far different from us; the visage of fear  
They lie there alone, naught else wanders here._

"It's you," Baekhyun whispers, voice barely above a whisper. "You're the sea witch."


	2. poor, unfortunate souls

“You must be cold.”

From anyone else, Baekhyun would have taken the words as an inquiry on his well-being. Sea witches, however, were rarely concerned with anything beyond themselves. So it was more of a statement, an observation. And, he noted with an involuntary shiver, one that was not far off base.

“That sort of comes with being in arctic waters,” Baekhyun muttered under his breath. “Gods forbid you build your lair in a more accessible location.”

The sea witch waved away Baekhyun’s mutterings nonchalantly. “If I made it that easy, everyone and their mother would be coming to see me,” he scoffed, propelling himself further into the cave by swishing a myriad of octopean legs.

Baekhyun gave one backward glance toward the entrance of the cave, and the waters that lay beyond it. A rippling magic barrier did little to obscure the barren view, and he personally felt that it seemed just as uninviting as the unknown depths of the sea witch’s cave. A retreat was out of the question; with a shudder, he followed quickly behind, struggling to keep up with the sea witch’s pace.

Eventually, they reached a large and empty chamber. The sea witch settled into the center of the room with a sigh; his limbs dragged against the floor like seaweed adrift in the current. He faced Baekhyun with quirked lips and a raised eyebrow. “My name is Tao — welcome to my lair,” he drawled, looking eminently amused. “What is it that you’re here for?”

“What makes you think I’m here for anything?” Baekhyun’s mouth ran far and quick, ahead of his mind. It only took Baekhyun a moment to realize that he had backed himself into an indefensible position, but he raised his chin defiantly anyway, eyes meeting those of the sea witch. “Maybe I just stumbled across your lair by accident.” 

That merely drew a snort. “Yes, because you obviously left your idyllic home and traveled hundreds of miles to the middle of _nowhere_ , looking for something else.” Tao leaned forward, a jeering look across his face. “I’m the only thing around here for several days’ worth of travel, darling; let’s not kid ourselves. The faster you get on with it, the faster I can grant your wish.”

Baekhyun set his jaw, feeling the strain of holding the sea witch’s pitch black stare. “And the faster you get your payment,” he said shrewdly. Because there was just no way that a sea witch was simply being altruistic.

Tao inclined his head with a grin. “Naturally.” Tentacles swirled about him impatiently, and Baekhyun thought that the witch seemed sinisterly delighted. “How else would I be able to afford to keep myself in such _fine_ trappings?”

For a moment, Baekhyun was quiet. His mind was awhirl with doubts and fears. There were so many terrible stories attached to sea witches — double crossing, steep payments, impossible demands. But the moment of doubt passed. He held as strong as he could, determined to see this through to the end. Baekhyun had made up his mind before ever deciding to seek out the help of a sea witch, and he was nothing if not headstrong. When he looked up again, he felt resolute.

“Land,” he eked out.

Tao’s eyebrows drew together. “Pardon me?”

“Land,” Baekhyun repeated, voice stronger this time. “I want to go onto land. I’m tired of the ocean, tired of being under my father’s thumb all the damn time.”

“And there’s nothing in the ocean that can keep you from your father’s watchful eye,” Tao seemed intrigued and delighted. “That’s why you want to live on land.”

Well, that was one part of it. 

Tao lifted himself from the ground. He swam in pacing, sweeping circles around Baekhyun, an appraising glint in his eye. “There are many ways to get you onto land,” he murmured. “And each of those ways is very different. Perhaps you could be a tad more specific? Surely you have a goal in mind beyond escaping your father.”

Baekhyun hesitated, for just a moment.

As though sensing that he had struck something, Tao leaned in with a feral grin. “Tell me,” he commanded imperiously, dark eyes glittering like coal.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

“I’ve heard — stories,” Baekhyun said haltingly. “From other merfolk that have gone up. Cities, dragons, forests, and butterflies… it would be wonderful to see if they’re really like they’re described.” It was even true. Though not his main motivation, it would be serendipitous if he could see the world above; he could just imagine how awed he would feel to witness it in all the vivid colors that had spun his childhood dreams.

Tao looked quite put out. “Seriously?” he asked, derision coloring the word. He placed one hand on his hip, so that he could properly deliver an eyeroll. “That’s so _boring_. Are you certain that you don’t want to find your true love, or seek revenge, or _anything_?”

Baekhyun pursed his lips, and gave the sea witch an arch look.

With a sigh, Tao leaned back. “Easily doable,” he said at length. “Boring, but doable.” He turned around and snapped his fingers, the sound reverberating from wall to wall like the crack of a whip. “Follow me, little mer.”

 

The chamber that Tao led Baekhyun into was even more poorly lit than the last, and smaller several times over. And this room was as full as the last one was empty— shelves upon shelves of mysterious jarred substances crowded the walls; and a large, glowing cauldron sat balefully in the middle, giving the two of them precious little room to maneuver about. Baekhyun gazed upon all of these new and strange things with wonder in his eyes. His fingers itched to reach out and touch.

As if reading his mind, Tao turned and raised a hand to preempt any such action. “Don’t touch anything,” he warned, white teeth shining in the darkness. “Not unless you have a burning desire to float belly-up on the surface.”

Properly chastised, Baekhyun withdrew his hand, and used the other to keep it in a tight grip.

Turning back to the task at hand, Tao practically danced from shelf to shelf, searching for the necessary ingredients. “A manskin spell,” he murmured softly to himself, fingers scuttling across the shelves like hermit crabs. “Been a while since I’ve done one of those. Going to need lots of slime mold and red algae for that…”

Minutes passed by like seconds, and Tao’s arms appeared to carry more and more jars of nameless things every time Baekhyun blinked. He couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized, as the sea witch fluttered to and fro, grabbing this and that from each shelf and alcove. Every few moments, he would deposit his holdings into a growing pile by the base of the cauldron.

“Why do you need so many ingredients?” Baekhyun wondered aloud. He wasn’t antagonizing; rather, he was honestly curious. “Father’s court magicians never use ingredients in their spells, they just… do what they do.”

Tao raised his eyes to Baekhyun, patently unimpressed. “And what is it that they do?” he asked cynically. “Probably not very much.” 

“That’s true—” Baekhyun said.

Sensing that a _but_ was forthcoming, Tao held up a hand and shook his head. “Look, if you don’t like my methods, you’re free to look for some other sea witch to give you what you want,” he said flatly. “If you can afford to, anyway. Last I checked, Sulli was still charging exorbitant prices.”

Baekhyun grimaced. That was a pot he’d rather not stir.

With a baleful eye, Baekhyun watched as the witch went about his business. He didn’t know whether it was his primal instincts or the coldness of the water seeping into his bones, but the unease he had been feeling all the while was beginning to escalate. Late though it was, second thoughts were beginning to parade themselves through his mind: could he even trust the witch?

“Feeling afraid?”

The words made Baekhyun jump. He felt vulnerable under Tao’s discerning eye, and he hunched over defensively. “Not afraid, just…” he trailed off. There wasn’t a word in his vocabulary with the capability to describe how he felt.

Wary, perhaps. That was the bulk of it. But it was too one-dimensional, too succinct. He was feeling more than just _wary_.

He was still struggling to articulate himself, when a shuddering boom vibrated throughout the lair, and the both of them stilled where they were.

Tao turned, shooting Baekhyun a dirty look. “You led your father’s troops right to my doorstep,” he said accusingly, jabbing forcefully in Baekhyun’s direction with an angry finger.

It was a possibility that had crossed his mind, but… “Nobody knows I’m gone,” he protested. “I told everyone that I was staying over with a friend. They shouldn’t be expecting me back for _days._ ”

That mollified Tao somewhat, and he gently set the last of the reagents down. “I’m going to go investigate it,” he muttered darkly, wiping his dusty hands against his many legs. “Stay where you are.” He swept out of the room with a fluidity that belied his monstrous tails.

“ _Stay where you are_ ,” Baekhyun mimicked mockingly. “Not likely.” With that, he kicked his tail against the ground, and followed.

 

Through the transparent magic barrier, it was exceedingly obvious what was causing the commotion. There, battering against the barrier, was something immense, blue, and spotted.

“Oh no, no, no…” Baekhyun muttered, dismay blossoming within his chest. He really should have known better.

“It’s a whale shark,” Tao sounded puzzled. “I’ve never seen one so far out of its habitat before.”

With each impact, the walls of the witch’s lair shuddered violently, and the two of them were jostled and disoriented. In between impacts, there was precious little time for Baekhyun to collect himself and find his bearings. Nevertheless, it was all too clear to him.

“That’s no whale shark,” Baekhyun said grimly. “That’s Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol. Well meaning mer-shark imbecile. What he lacked in brains, he made up for in heart and in brawn — he was a friend to all, and always was cheerful to offer up the assistance of his massive strength. And _of course_ Baekhyun should have known better than to assume that Chanyeol would just take the hint and cover for him. Chanyeol probably didn’t even comprehend the hint. Very little got through that dense skull of his.

“He’s strong,” Tao offered, after a moment. “He’s probably going to break it down eventually.”

Baekhyun made a horrified noise. “I thought it was a _magic_ barrier.”

Tao sent him a reproachful look. “Even magic has it’s limits. And twenty tons of whale shark is pushing it.”

“Chanyeol’s not twenty tons,” Baekhyun said distractedly. “Yet.”

He was thinking, however. The barrier might not hold against Chanyeol’s onslaught forever, but Baekhyun didn’t need forever. He only needed however long it would take Tao to brew up his potion and cast his spell.

“Do you think we have enough time?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Is there enough time to brew the potion?” Baekhyun repeated impatiently.

Tao’s eyes narrowed as he did mental calculations. “Barely,” he answered at last.

“Alright. Let’s… let’s go.”

 

The potion, when it was finished, looked about as appetizing as a deep-sea fish. Which is to say, _not at all_.

“Is it supposed to look like this?” Baekhyun asked, dubiously eyeing the strange-cauldron-that-doth-bubble-over. “You’ve made this potion before, right?”

Tao looked unimpressed. “I can turn you into a blobfish if I so choose,” he threatened, eyes glinting. “Imagine being trapped in its shapeless, blobby body forever. A fate worse than death.”

Another shudder ran through the cave walls, reminding Baekhyun of the timer slowly ticking over his head. “Right,” he said hastily. “I guess that I’ll just have to trust your expertise. Let’s get on with the transaction then.”

Tao flicked his wrist, and then there was suddenly a piece of parchment floating between them, a quill at its side. “Contract 35B,” he said. “A retrieval task. Read all the terms, and then sign at the bottom.” With that, he turned to bottle the bubbling solution.

Baekhyun quickly scanned the lines. “ _The Mermaid’s Tear_ ,” he read. He looked up sharply. “That’s part of our royal collection,” he said.

“It was.” Tao did not meet his eyes, instead choosing to focus on his task. “A long time ago, anyway. It’s been lost for centuries, which you would know if your tutors were at all competent. And, if my sources correct, it currently resides on _land_ , somewhere in the confines of the Do Kingdom.”

“What would a mer jewel be doing on land?” Baekhyun asked, bewildered. Jewels — especially blue diamonds such as _The Mermaid’s Tear_ — were valued extraordinarily by the his people, and guarded with a zealous devotion. That someone could have made off with the jewel, let alone smuggle it onto land, was near unthinkable.

“That’s irrelevant to your quest,” Tao snapped, and there was an undercurrent of _something_ in his voice that startled Baekhyun. Apparently Tao noticed it as well, because he visibly took a moment to compose himself before speaking again. “Look,” he said finally. “If it’s something you’re going to need to know, I’ll tell you, alright?”

Baekhyun bit his lip. Really, he didn’t have much of a choice — he knew that he was just going to accept the quest in the end. Still, he had so many questions that needed answers. Why was _The Mermaid’s Tear_ on land? And why did Tao want the jewel anyway?

Tao’s patience grew thinner by the second. “The magic barrier is going to fail very soon,” he admonished. “Make up your mind.”

“What happens if I fail?” Because that’s something Baekhyun _had_ to know.

Lips thinning, Tao rolled one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “Then you never set foot on land again,” he answered. “You come home and face whatever consequence your father has lined up for you.”

With a slow nod, Baekhyun grabbed the pen, and signed his name on the dotted line before he even had the chance to run through a gamut of second thoughts.

“God, _finally_ ,” Tao said.

As soon as Baekhyun dropped the quill, he felt something seize in his chest, knocking all the breath out of him. Panic and alarm coursing through his system, he shot Tao a desperate look.

The sea witch nonchalantly leaned down, and placed the now stoppered potion by Baekhyun’s side. “Just a side effect of contractual magic,” he explained. “Don’t worry; it will pass.”

Baekhyun could barely feel it as Tao’s tentacles wrapped around him, lifting and moving him. “Now,” the words were whispered huskily into his ears. “I’m going to help you get to the surface. Don’t drink the potion until you’re no longer in danger of drowning, capisce?”

Maybe Baekhyun nodded in response, or maybe he just mouthed uselessly like a fish out of water. It was difficult to tell, really, because he finally teetered off the edge of consciousness.


	3. two worlds

Luhan didn’t know if winter made the sea more treacherous, or if his imagination was just reaping the rewards of spending weeks alone, with naught else but his crew, his sorrows, and an icy chill for company. Still, as he stood there — hand on the railing for balance, leaning forward — he could not help but feel a kind of malevolence from the undulating waves.

“How far are we from our destination?” His voice sounded far away, even to him.

A hesitation came before the reply. “A few days worth of travel, sir. Perhaps a week, if the storm doesn’t clear up. There’s a buoy bobbing around the border, marking it.”

Their destination: the Do Kingdom. Luhan had been there once before, as a child. It had all happened so long ago, and he truly remembered very little of his experiences. If he closed his eyes and imagined, he could glean some flashes of verdant green; the warm breath of springtime, all year round; the welcoming smell of fish charring by an open fire; the rough, callused hands of his fisherman boy. 

The last was precious, better off locked away and never thought of again. The rest meant next to nothing to him. Just glimpses, without memories to go with them. 

Opening his eyes, he suppressed a sigh. No point in trying anymore; the past would stay just that, the past. He was being sent to the Do Kingdom to try and forge an alliance between their two nations, and that was the present. _The future._

Never mind that an arranged marriage seemed so archaic. His nation’s political position was tenuous at best, and his people were counting on him to strengthen it.

In truth, he had always wanted more for his life. It seemed silly to think of it now, but he’d always had this notion of marrying for love. He wanted an epic love story, one for the ages. There had been times that he’d hoped and hoped unrealistically for hi fisherman boy to come through. But, as a prince, duty must come before his wishes. He had given up those dreams long ago, determined to resign himself to a life that was ordinary and lacking in fulfillment. A peasant living for themselves could do as they liked, live as they saw fit, could dream. Luhan was responsible for all of the people in his nation: they came before him.

He was contemplating how much he really bought into that, when in the distance, something caught his eye. Something bobbed unevenly on the surface of the water, tossed about by the back-and-forth movements of the ocean. Occasionally, he would lose sight of it, but then it would resurface anew, like the ocean waters couldn’t keep it under. They were too far for Luhan to make out what it was, but then there was little that floated about the surface of the seas. 

He pointed. “Is that the buoy?”

The crew member beside him squinted. “It shouldn’t be, sir. We’re not due to be around there for long time yet.”

As they drew closer, it became clear that it was no buoy, but instead, a human body.

It was not the first body Luhan had seen on his voyage. Waterlogged corpses had an unfortunate tendency to float at the surface during decomposition, and a great many had marked various points on his trip. However, this particular body was rather different from the rest, having the particular distinction of being _alive_. There was obvious movement, made clear by the ripples in the surrounding water.

“Someone fetch the rope ladder,” Luhan commanded. His hands clenched around the railing of his ship as he worked to keep his eyes trained on the figure, for fear of losing sight of whoever it was. There was always the possibility that the person might not be friendly, and Luhan kept that in mind, but his conscience would not let him leave without offering his assistance. What sort of person would he be if he did? Not the sort he’d want to be, that was for sure.

“Right on it, sir.” One of the crew members vanished into one of the cabins, before reappearing with the rope ladder in hand.

When he judged them close enough, Luhan tossed one end of the rope ladder down the side of the ship. It dangled midair for a moment, before gravity took hold, and then it unwound downward, until it landed on the ocean surface.

“Climb aboard,” Luhan called. After a moment, he added as an afterthought: “Try not to cut yourself against the barnacles.”

 

Up close, the waterlogged person was more ordinary than Luhan could have ever anticipated.

It was a boy, probably no older than Luhan himself, and quite likely a few years his junior. He was dressed in little more than the torn-up garments of an unfortunate seafarer; there were corpses that were better dressed. Luhan searched his face for any telling characteristics that would tell him where his newfound passenger came from, but the boy was as plain as anyone he had ever seen.

“Salutations,” Luhan said stiffly, manners — as ever — at the forefront of his mind. One of the crew members handed him a towel, which he draped over the waterlogged boy’s shoulders.

The boy gave no answering greeting, nor words of gratitude; he merely shivered, and stared with wide eyes. He sat there on the deck, legs akimbo. It was understandable, Luhan thought: the boy had been adrift at sea for who knew how long, and it made sense that his mind and body would still be impacted from shock, fear, despair — whatever it was that accompanied such an experience.

“Where are you from?” Luhan tried again. He knelt down, and stared the boy in the eye. “What is your name?”

This time, there was a flash of underlying intelligence in the boy’s eyes: whoever he was, wherever it was that he came from, this boy understood the tongue that Luhan spoke in.

“My name is Baekhyun,” came the answer, the words stilted. Likely, it was the chattering of teeth, or perhaps an accent that Luhan was unfamiliar with. “I’m from — around here.”

“So you’re from the Do Kingdom?” That was the closest country, as well as the answer that made the most sense. “We’re a bit far from the seaport; were you shipwrecked?”

A moment of hesitation. “Yes,” Baekhyun answered, his voice soft and shaky. 

Baekhyun seemed absolutely shaken. Luhan understood: the poor boy must have seen his friends and associates go down in the wreck, left at the mercy of nature. He must have thought that he would suffer the same fate. Luhan couldn’t imagine being in that position, and he really didn’t want to. In all likelihood, it would be many years before such wounds healed over — if they ever did so at all. 

“It’s alright, you’re safe now,” Luhan said consolingly. “I’m Luhan, prince of the Northern tribes; my ship is headed toward the mainland of Do Kingdom, so you’ll be back home before you know it.”

His overtures were rewarded with a pale, wan smile. He supposed that it was probably the best response he could have expected, given the circumstances.

“Sir,” one of the crew members stepped up hesitantly. “Should we prepare a bunk for him?”

Luhan turned an eye toward Baekhyun. The boy looked small and bedraggled, and there was a hint of haggardness to his person. 

“Yes,” he decided. “That would probably be for the best.”


	4. pokemon surf theme

The sun beat down against Sehun, and he cursed himself for forgetting his hat.

He’d been out for hours. Officially, he was trying to fish, but he’d been catching more sunlight than fish. _Significantly_ more, if the angry sunburn starting on his neck was anything to go by.

Absentmindedly, he reached back and scratched it. It was going to be a pain, especially when it started to peel. God, the peeling was probably worse than the pain or the tenderness. Distantly, he made a mental note to get some of Apothecary Minseok’s famous aloe salve.

If only he’d brought his wide brimmed hat. He was never going to stop berating himself for that.

With a sigh, he grabbed onto his net and cast it into the ocean. Sunburn or no, fishing was his livelihood, and if he didn’t catch anything today then he was going to starve. He waited for a few moments to allow the net to sink somewhat, before attempting to pull it in once more.

Emphasis on _attempt_ , because there was something heavy caught in his net.

It wasn’t a fish, he knew that much. The resistance and feel of it was all wrong. There was a feeling of dread coiling in his stomach — it was a body, it had to be. He got those sometimes: huge, bloated chunks of _person_ that he would have to untangle from his net. It was awful whenever it happened, and it usually put him off of food for the rest of the day.

Groaning, he redoubled his efforts, his arms straining to pull in the net, and whatever was tangled within. After a few minutes however, Sehun felt as if his limbs were on fire, and his head was growing faint and light. He blinked, and the next thing he knew, he was laying on his back, the fruits of his catch in a tumbled heap beside him.

His expectations were half correct. It was a body indeed — just not a _dead_ one. Wide eyes and wet mussed hair peered at him, curious and suspicious, from within the net.

Eventually, he found his voice. “What the fuck were you doing in the middle of the ocean?” he asked incredulously. He was still totally and completely blindsided by it all; a seasoned fisherman such as himself surely would have noticed someone swimming up to his boat. And _as if_ there was a way for anyone to have swum that far. The nearest shore was miles away.

A gamut of expressions ran through the strangers face, from confused to angry to sheepish.

“I’m…” The stranger’s voice, low and deep, trailed off, as if he didn’t quite know what to say.

Sehun pulled himself up into a sitting position, and sighed tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I’m not going to have enough room to carry fish as long as you’re here,” he said in frustration. He shot the stranger an accusing look, as though it were _his_ fault that he was too large for Sehun’s pathetic little fishing boat.

The stranger looked guilty at that. “I’m… sorry?”

Shaking his head, Sehun leapt to his feet and began to hoist the sail. If they left now, they might make it back to the shore with a few hours left to spare for Sehun to pack away his things.

“There should be a woolen towel in one of the compartments,” he said.

The stranger struggled for a moment, to find words. “Thanks.” He set about foraging through the various compartments, looking for said towel.

When he was satisfied that they were on course back to land, Sehun sat himself down next to the stranger. There were going to be a few long hours with nothing else to do, so he might as well make some small talk.

“What’s your name?” he inquired. “I’m Sehun.”

Dark eyes studied him for a moment. “Chanyeol,” he said at last.

“So, Chanyeol,” he said. “What are you doing all the way out here? You never told me.”

Chanyeol’s face soured, as though he’d been hoping that Sehun had dropped that particular line of questioning. “Um… I got caught in a riptide, and it carried me all the way out here.”

It was a plausible enough story. Rip currents were notorious for making off with unsuspecting swimmers, carrying them far from the shore and away from any hope of rescue. It also explained why Chanyeol was wearing very little— unlike fishermen who covered themselves up for protection from the sun, swimmers rarely wore more than underclothes.

“You’re not around here, are you?” Sehun asked. Because the locals knew all about the rip currents, and how to steer clear of them. Aside from that, Chanyeol’s accent was a little odd. It was the emphasis on certain syllables, or else the strange musical lilt. If he was a foreigner, that would almost be a satisfying answer to all of Sehun’s question.

Chanyeol appeared to struggle with himself for a brief moment. Various expressions flickered through his face. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’m from, um, overseas.”

“Cool, I guess.” Sehun replied. “So, what brought you here?”

“Um,” Chanyeol scratched his head, which was probably itchy from the dried seawater. “Do you have someone that’s special to you?”

Sehun thought back to his childhood, to bright eyes and a friendly smile, to a ship sailing away forever, leaving him to a live of solitude. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “I do.”

Chanyeol smiled at him. “My person is here,” he said. “So you understand.”

After a beat, Sehun nodded, nodded fervently. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I do.”


	5. pokemon wild encounter theme

The last weeks had gone more smoothly than Baekhyun would have honestly expected.

He and Luhan had parted ways once their ship touched down on the mainland, and Baekhyun had been staying at a rather cozy inn ever since. It hadn’t exactly been easy to arrange payment, but it had been a great decision in hindsight to bring along his pearl collection— while nearly useless in the ocean, their value was apparently much higher on land.

Still, four days into his quest and Baekhyun was still no closer to procuring _The Mermaid’s Tear_ and securing his payment. It wasn’t exactly easy segueing onto the topic of mythic jewlery— and frankly, that’s what it was to the land people. That much, he had discovered on his third (or was it fourth?) day.

“Excuse me,” Baekhyun had said to the minstrel with the flute. He had pretty much exhausted all of his other options (jewlers, bankers, guards with trustworthy faces and scars on their knees) and was frankly on his last leg. “Excuse me, do you have, by any chance, information on a big, blue diamond called _The Mermaid’s Tear_?”

The minstrel—who had introduced himself as Jongdae—had flashed an easy grin, catlike and bright. “I have,” he had said, voice warm and silky. “Who hasn’t?”

“You’d be surprised,” Baekhyun had muttered, because nobody else he had asked had been able to give him any useful information.

Jongdae had leaned forward, expression delighted. “It’s a story that every minstrel learns in school,” he had reminisced wistfully, eyes suddenly faraway and dreamy. But Baekhyun hadn’t been fooled, and when the minstrel whipped out his cap for payment, he had been prepared. He plopped in a pearl, which satisfied Jongdae— for the moment, anyway.

“Everyone knows that the merrow don’t have souls,” Jongdae had began, and Baekhyun had had to stifle a laugh at that, because as much inaccuracies he had heard about his people throughout his time on land, that was surely the worst.

The minstrel had stopped, looking rather affronted.

“Sorry,” Baekhyun had excused himself. “There was, um. Something. In my nose.”

“Everyone knows that the merrow don’t have souls— but what most don’t know, is the story of the mer who tried to defy his destiny. The story of Kris, and Junmyeon.”

A shiver had run up Baekhyun’s spine at that. He knew those names.

“Prince Kris of the merrow had lived underwater his whole life, dreaming of something beyond his small world: of something more. Often, he would surface for just a glimpse of land, and the people that frolicked on it. It was a dangerous endeavor, for the humans despised the merrow.

“On one occasion, he had the misfortune of meeting a human prince: Junmyeon of the Do Kingdom. And the two of them fell in love.

“Kris made a deal with a sea witch, in hopes of gaining a soul and walking with men. If he could love with his whole heart, and be loved wholly in return, then he would have what he most desired. So he came to Junmyeon with a hopeful heart, and the two of them lived together for many happy years. They walked together, talked together, and and lived their lives.

“But too soon came the day that Prince Junmyeon lay on his deathbed, and Kris’s heart was heavy, knowing that soon, his love would go to the one place he could not follow. For he had no soul, and there was to be no afterlife for him.

“Death brought sorrow, and Kris wasted away, pining for his lost love. Finally, the day came where he shed a single tear, and died of a broken heart.

“But the sea witch kept his promise. And so, the tear was magically transformed into an immaculate blue diamond, containing a single soul: the soul of the merrow prince. And so, the people buried the jewel together with the body of Junmyeon, so that the two lovers could be together forever.”

Story told, the minstrel had whipped out his cap once more, expression greedy, hungry, and expectant.

Baekhyun had known the story of Kris and Junmyeon, but he had never heard it like this. And he had never heard of a connection to _The Mermaid’s Tear_. So he had given little thought to giving Jongdae a generous three pearls.

The minstrel had earned it, after all.

 

 

So Baekhyun had gotten his first clue easily enough, but he had uncovered next to nothing since then. Logically, he knew that his next step would be to locate the grave of Prince Junmyeon, but he had made no headway. The memories of humans did not extend as far as that of the mer, and the whereabouts of the grave had been lost to the centuries.

So, he thought that he would have the most success if he searched for the grave on royal grounds.

The road toward the capitol of the Do Kingdom was, surprisingly, rarely traversed. It seemed that few people from the provincial sea towns chose to make the trek toward more urban centers. He supposed that it was a rather convenient for him, as it expedited his travels, but he found it quite unnerving to travel alone. Baekhyun knew that he was small and defenseless, and if any highwayman were to decide to accost him, he would be a veritable sitting duck.

He had not made it three miles from his starting point, before he began to sense that he was being followed.

It was not so obvious at first. Just a shiver, or a cold sweat here or there. But then it graduated to the rustling of leaves, the reactions of wildlife, or the plodding of feet. But whenever Baekhyun whipped his head around, he was unable to discern much of anything.

“It’s nothing,” he told himself, doing his utmost to will his uneasiness away.

But then there would be that rustle of leaves again.

All too soon, darkness began to descend upon him. Combined with the shadows from the forest canopy, there was barely enough light for Baekhyun to see where he was going. Though he could barely see more than a yard before him, his other senses seemed to have been heightened.

So, when someone—or something—placed a hand on his shoulder, he jumped and shrieked.

Baekhyun whipped around, assuming a defensive stance. But when he saw who his suspected-assailant was, he lowered his guard in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” Baekhyun found his voice at last. His throat and voice did not feel normal: they were thickened with fear, strangled with anxiety. His tongue sat heavy in his mouth, far too clumsy to form words with the clear diction he usually possessed.

Chanyeol scowled at him. “I could be asking you the same question,” he admonished. “I should. _A sea witch._ Baek, what were you thinking?”

Flushing, Baekhyun scowled. “Well, you’re here too,” he defended himself. “You must have made a deal with him too.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded far more petulant and spoiled than he would have liked.

“And whose fault is that?” Chanyeol retorted. “It’s not like I could have just let you go off on your own. You wouldn’t have a clue what you were doing.”

 _He would too_. But that felt even more spoiled, so he held back those words. Instead, he tried something else. “I couldn’t stay there. You know I couldn’t.”

Chanyeol softened, just like Baekhyun knew he would. It was so easy to manipulate his friend: it made Baekhyun feel like a puppeteer, like he was holding all of the ropes. “Would it have really been so bad?” Chanyeol asked.

The key was being beseeching, being pleading. Chanyeol could never say no to him, after all. “It would have been awful,” Baekhyun said imploringly. “My father wanted to keep me in a cage.”

“You are a prince,” Chanyeol snorted. “You lived in the finest room in the palace. That’s hardly a cage.”

“A gilded cage is still a cage,” Baekhyun insisted. “You know I couldn’t live like that. I’m a free spirit, Chanyeol.”

“He was just trying to keep you safe, Baek—”

“Not just safe. _Imprisoned._ ”

Chanyeol pinched his nose and sighed. “So what was the point of all of this, Baek?” he asked, suddenly sounded tired, and Baekhyun knew that victory was at hand. “Just showing your dad who’s boss? Are you trying to prove a point?”

“No, no,” Baekhyun said in frustration, because he _had_ to make Chanyeol understand. “It’s not about him. It was never about him. It was about _me_. I just wanted to be free, you know?”

Chanyeol sighed again, but did not say anything, and Baekhyun knew he had won.

 

 

Baekhyun was led to a campsite that was already up and kicking, and serving another person.

“Um, Chanyeol…” he hissed surreptitiously, because he didn’t want to be overheard. “There’s already somebody here.”

Apparently, Baekhyun’s surreptitious wasn’t surreptitious enough, because the stranger heard him anyway. “Was that supposed to be ‘quiet’?” The stranger asked nonchalantly, raising a single eyebrow. It looked ridiculously smug on that pointy face. “Because it wasn’t. At all. You’re quite loud, actually.”

“Baekhyun, this is Sehun.” Chanyeol gestured toward the pointy stranger. “He fished me out of the water and helped me get to the mainland. He’s been helping me out since then, with my search effort and everything.”

Sehun raised an eyebrow. “Oh,” he said. “This is the Baekhyun you were talking about?”

 _That_ caught Baekhyun’s attention. He turned his panic gaze onto Chanyeol, who shook his head imperceptibly, and then smiled in a reassuring, if rather pale, manner. All at once, Baekhyun could feel his body relax, and quickly realized that he had just been jumping to conclusions in a fit of panicked pique. That was just the sort of effect that Chanyeol had on him: calming, grounding.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said. “This is that Baekhyun.”

Sehun’s stare landed on Baekhyun then, and he tried very hard not to wilt under the weight of it. He tentatively raised a hand in greeting, but he still felt too exposed, too bare. It felt like he was being assessed—which was ridiculous, because Sehun was probably a peasant (and a human peasant at that,) and peasants were in no position to judge him in any way, shape, or form.

Feeling defiant, he scowled and crossed his arms. He turned away from Sehun, returning his attention to Chanyeol. “So what are you going to do?” Baekhyun was operating under the assumption that Sehun wasn’t fully informed as to the… fishier aspects of their story, and so he was deliberately vague. “Are you just going to go back, or…”

Chanyeol shook his head, and didn’t meet Baekhyun’s eyes. “I made a deal too, just like you did,” he explained. “I can’t just go back now.”

Baekhyun’s mind immediately became calculating. “What deal did you make?” he asked shrewdly. “Maybe we can band together, and just… kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

He was hopeful. Apart, neither of them really had a realistic possibility of getting what they wanted. Baekhyun lacked Chanyeol’s strength, and was defenseless on his own. Chanyeol, on the other hand, didn’t have the brains to find whatever it was he had been sent looking for. In fact, Baekhyun doubted that Chanyeol had the brains to accomplish much at all. If they worked together, they had a real chance.

Chanyeol’s eyes flicked up to his face, before quickly averting his gaze. “I got the classic deal,” he confessed. “Find my true love, sea foam, all that stuff.”

Baekhyun blinked once. Twice. “That’s— that’s really shit, Yeol.” He felt a wave of pity course through his being: he was pretty sure that no one with a working brain would have been caught in such an unfair deal, and this was only another testament to the stupidity of Park Chanyeol.

Chanyeol shrugged helplessly. “Not like I had much of a choice.”

“Well,” Baekhyun said slowly, after a beat of silence, “There are like, hundreds of more people in the capitol city, right?” The question was directed at Sehun, who nodded. “So, like, your chances of finding your true love would probably drastically increase if you come with me.” To help his case, he tried his best puppy dog face, with watering eyes and everything.

A moment of silence, during which Chanyeol wouldn’t meet Baekhyun’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he said finally, eyes still focused on the swirling, flickering flame of the campfire. “Yeah, okay, sure. I’ll come with you.”


	6. if ever i would leave you

Prince Kyungsoo of the Do kingdom was a complex man.

He put his kingdom first, as all good rulers did. He wasn’t quite a ruler yet, for his father was still alive, but ever since he had reached the age of majority, he had slowly taken on a plethora of royal responsibilities. He excelled in his studies, whether the study was of the sword or of the book, and he worked hard toward everything that he needed to.

And yet, though the prince was filial, the heart was not quite so obedient.

As a prince, it was his responsibility to make a political match, one that would benefit his country and bolster prosperity. In his mind, he knew that. But his heart was a different matter; from a very young age, he had lost it to one of his best friends— the gallant knight Sir Jongin.

Well, Jongin hadn’t been a knight at the time. He had been a squire. Kyungsoo had been having trouble with his falcon, and when Jongin walked over to try and show him how to reel it back in, and, well. Kyungsoo had lost his heart that day, and never for a moment had he wanted it back.

Until now, that is.

The simple thought of marrying someone else when the man he loved was still nearby— it was, it was _painful_. Though Jongin had never really returned his affections in quite the way Kyungsoo wanted him to, he had always had hope. But now, faced with a stranger, Kyungsoo didn’t even have that.

All of that was good and well, but the complexity of Kyungsoo was, well, in his behavior.

It hurt him to see Jongin, you see. Like all thwarted lovers, Kyungsoo was never quite comfortable with the object of his affections. So, as Queen Guinevere often lashed out at Sir Lancelot, so he too often lashed out at Sir Jongin. It was not, as others often supposed, born out of any supposed dislike. But being so near to his goal, yet so far was tantalizing. Thusly, he was harder on the poor knight than he was on any other.

The tourney was an example of this.

All the knights had lined up to face on another in a set of jousts. Kyungsoo had a responsibility to be there, to hand the cup to the winner, but really he was there to watch Sir Jongin perform. Fear for the knight made him tetchy and anxious, for jousting was a dangerous sport that sometimes claimed lives. Never mind the fact that Sir Jongin was an accomplished knight, one whose ability had never failed him in the past. Kyungsoo worried anyway.

So he watched carefully for Jongin. And his heart flushed when the knight came trotting out on his horse, looking especially gallant and knightly.

His heart flushed, before dropping. For Jongin was looking gallant and knightly, and was _wearing somebody’s favor._

Kyungsoo’s heart flushed again— this time, with jealousy.

He watched with a dark, wormlike evil gnawing at his heart. Whose favor was it? Did— did Sir Jongin perhaps have a paramour? And really, perhaps Kyungsoo had a drop of barbarian blood in him or something, because if someone asked him in that moment to choose the lady or the tiger, he would have chosen the tiger in a heartbeat, and it would have been an easy decision.

Sir Jongin won, of course, as he always did. In the manner of knightly lovers— Tristan, Lamorak, Lancelot— Sir Jongin was one of the best knights at Kyungsoo’s court. And really, his victory was easy enough to anticipate— Kyungsoo had presented him with the trophy many times before, after all.

He advanced toward the platform where the knight was waiting, his heart heavy.

“Sir Jongin,” he said, and his voice sounded frosty even to him.

The knight’s ever-present smile faltered. “Prince Kyungsoo…” Jongin looked confused, like he didn’t know why Kyungsoo was antagonizing.

“Congratulations on winning the tourney.” Kyungsoo had made a conscious effort to adjust his tone, but to his ears, he sounded just as clipped as before. “And may I also extend my congratulations toward whomever you are championing today?”

“My sister,” Jongin supplied with a timid smile.

“Oh!” Kyungsoo felt heat high on his cheeks, and he was aware that he was probably blushing. He had judged too hastily, perhaps. “Extend my congratulations to your sister then; you have acquitted both her and yourself quite admirably.”

“Thank you, sire.” Jongin’s smile widened winningly, and Kyungsoo felt a rush in his chest, and he knew that he was lost again.


	7. interlude 1

Things got harder after that, not easier.

Knowing that Jongin was still unattached gave Kyungsoo a strange hope, and one that was frankly unwarranted, for Kyungsoo’s marital situation remained just as dire as before. Prince Luhan of the Northern tribes had announced his intention to come and cement an alliance, and Kyungsoo knew what was to be expected of him. He was to accept the proposal, so that his father would finally have a tenuous claim to the Northern lands that he had coveted so much for so long.

So the hope hurt. Whenever Jongin smiled at him, there was both hopefulness and pain; when Jongin helped him with hawking (which he had never gotten the hang of) and hunting (which he would _never_ get the hang of) there was both the same hope and pain. It was a thoroughly unpleasant experience, and he communicated as much to his manservant.

“There has never been a hopeless heart as hopeful as mine,” he bemoaned, and when his manservant gave him a sardonic look instead of sympathy, he was rather affronted.

His manservant would never understand. Commoners never could; they could love freely, as they saw fit. Not to say that they didn’t have responsibilities, but the fact was, they only had responsibilities to themselves. Kyungsoo had a duty to his country: he had to always put them first. History remembered such rulers fondly, whereas the indolent and the self-centered were flagellated by both books and tongues. Arthur was a hero; Nero saw Rome burn.

Only a few weeks after the tourney, Kyungsoo was subjected to something else _just_ as trying. Prince Luhan was arriving at court, and Kyungsoo was to receive him. It took great pains to ensure that he showed no ill-will toward the man who was here to strip his freedoms away, but he put in as much of an effort that he was able to.

“The Do Kingdom welcomes you,” he said stiffly, and winced. That wasn’t rude, exactly, but etiquette called for something a smidgen warmer than that.

If Luhan had been expecting something else, he didn’t show it. His smile was formal as he bowed. “We thank you for the welcome,” he said, sounding practiced and robotic. Distantly, Kyungsoo wondered whether he was speaking for his country, or just invoking the royal we.

“Come, let us talk about matters of the state,” Kyungsoo said, cutting to the chase. “Our servants can show your entourage to your quarters in the meantime.”

Luhan smiled. “We would be amenable to that,” he said.

 


	8. interlude 2

The first breath was always the hardest.

Tao could breathe in this form, he knew that, but it was not as easy to assuage the concerns of the body as it was the concerns of the mind. Even though the spell had never failed him before, his body always resisted the first breath, never quite sure whether magic would fail it.

Subsequent breaths were easier and easier. Once he knew that he could trust his lungs, his body stopped straining to hold its breath, settling into a routine. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Most firsts were like this. First step. First glimpse. First love.

Sighing, Tao placed his hands on the surface of the small pier, and pulled himself out of the water. His legs (it felt so strange to have only two!) flexed in an excited sort of anticipation— it had been so long since he'd last walked on land.

He rarely came to this cavern. It was where he kept his cache of mortal things, for when he wanted to blend in with the humans. The fashions of the clothes he stored were probably a few decades out of date, but he doubted that there was anything strange enough to offend.

It wasn't often that he did something himself. There were always people with questions and others with wishes, and Tao found that there were few tasks that he couldn't delegate.

As a matter of fact, he had delegated this particular task. But this was too important to entrust to someone as finicky as the mer prince. He had to get his hand on the jewel, no matter what, and the only person he could really trust to get the job done, was himself.

“Wait for me, Kris,” he muttered to himself, pulling on a long pair of trousers. “I won't be long, now.”


	9. now that i know

Sir Jongin was a simple man.

That was in all senses of the word. He could never really be accused of complexity: his wits were simple, his needs were simple, his wants were simple, and his mind was simple. Not to say that he was dumb, but rather, the way that his mind worked was quite economical. Pretense, for instance, were not something that he would ever indulge in, even if he wanted to.

And he didn’t. He liked his life simple.

So, when it came to his attention that his close and dear friend—Prince Kyungsoo—seemed to be quite troubled, Jongin chose the simplest course of action: a direct confrontation.

One could argue that pretending not to notice would have been simpler. That would have only been true in the short run, and anyway, pretense of any sort was quite beyond him— as established.

He would have confronted his prince immediately if the fates had been willing, but alas, they were not. In the pursuit of establishing the betrothal between Prince Luhan and Prince Kyungsoo, the king had ordered them to spend a significant of time with one another. It was rare that Jongin could catch one without the other, and he quickly came to the conclusion that, if he were to hold an actual conversation with Prince Kyungsoo, it would have to be after hours.

A more complex man, perhaps, would have waited in the corridors, to steal in during the first opportunity that arose.

Jongin was simpler. He counted the hours until it would no longer be proper for th princes to keep one another company any longer, and then he left his quarters, and made way to Kyungsoo’s own.

Seeing as that was the case, perhaps it was serendipitous that the prince’s quarters were lightly guarded that day.

“Sir Jongin,” the guard said as he passed by, bowing on one knee.

“Please rise,” Jongin said hastily. “I simply wish to speak with the prince.”

To let Jongin through was a direct contradiction of protocols, but as he was—dressed in little more than his pajamas, not a single weapon in sight—he presented little to no threat. And besides that, he had a deep friendship with the guard in question; he and Taemin went way back.

“Right, sir.” Taemin pulled open the door, to allow Jongin entry.

The prince’s quarters were, as expected, grander than anything Jongin had ever seen. He had visited once or twice when they were children, but the rooms had not been so large or ostentatious then. Now, he thought wistfully, it was a room fit for a king.

He filed away that treasonous thought. Kyungsoo’s father was still alive, after all.

Jongin paused at the door that led from the antechamber to the main chamber. It took him a couple moments to collect his wits, but once he did, his grip on them was rock solid. When he knocked on the door, it was with confidence.

“Who is it?” The voice inside sounded supremely annoyed.

“Prince Kyungsoo,” Jongin said. “Is this a bad time?”

A series of loud, clunking noises answered him. He couldn’t tell if something was being knocked over, or what it could have been. But soon enough, the door opened, revealing the prince.

Jongin had never seen Kyungsoo like this. Hair wet, likely from a bath; pajamas hanging off of his small frame, hastily put on; a spot of red high on his cheeks, evidence of how he had exerted himself to answer the door in a timely manner.

It stirred something within him.

A more complex man would have taken the time to analyze the situation, to think on his feelings. Was it just the lust of the perpetually single and undersexed, or maybe the stirrings of something deeper? What were the ramifications? Did someone in Jongin’s position even have a chance with Kyungsoo?

But Jongin was not a complex man. He was a simple one.

And Jongin simply said, “Oh.”


	10. the beautiful people

There had been a certain hiccup at the city gates, because neither Chanyeol nor Baekhyun had any sort of documentation.

Baekhyun hadn’t given much thought to it, really. With his deal to Tao at the forefront of his mind, and with Chanyeol and Sehun hanging around in the background, there was precious little room in his brains to give thought to travel laws. And, in his defense, customs didn’t exist underwater; people had been free to swim wherever they chose to go.

Unfortunately, customs _did_ exist on land. And, as neither Baekhyn nor Chanyeol were actual citizens of any country, they had not been able to make the necessary arrangements with the border guard.

It first crossed Baekhyun’s mind when he saw the woman in front of him rifle through her pack.

“Um, ma’am?” He asked. “What are you doing?”

The look that she tossed his way was so deriding that he felt indignance whirling about within him. “Passport, brainiac,” she said, in a very offensive voice that was probably reserved for the stupidest idiots in the world, “It’s how we’re going to get into the city.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widened, and he whirled around to face Chanyeol. “We don’t have passports,” he hissed, panicking.

Chanyeol frowned. “That’s… going to be a problem.”

Sehun gave them both a look that put the rude lady to shame. “Seriously? The two of you come to a different country, and you don’t remember to bring your passports along with you?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Just my luck to be stuck with the two biggest idiots on this side of the ocean.”

Scratching his head sheepishly, Chanyeol shrugged. “Our homeland was a bit more… lax.”

Baekhyun shook his head wildly. “Not important, guys. Look, Sehun, do you have any ideas how to smuggle us into the city?”

The look that Sehun was subjecting Baekhyun to turned downright venomous. “Who died and made me the brain trust?” he demanded. “Have you all forgotten that I’m a simple fisherman from a small village? And the only reason that I’m here with you is because I needed to pick up some more lures?”

Gnashing his teeth in frustration, Baekhyun flicked his eyes to and fro wildly, hoping to strike on an idea, or even the beginnings of one. Sehun was right; between the three of them, Baekhyun was the cleverest, and if there was any solution to be found, it would be Baekhyun and not Sehun to stumble upon it.

His eyes landed on a hearse. The cogs in his minds whirred quickly. He’d found a way into the city.

 

 

“This is a bit macabre,” Sehun deadpanned as he shoveled grave dirt into a cheaply wrought makeshift coffin. It was more of a longish crate, really, but the three of them had to make do with what they had.

“It’s just dirt,” Baekhyun insisted. “It’s not like we’re digging up dead bodies or something.”

“This cemetery has been here for hundreds of years. Some of this dirt probably is dead bodies.”

Of the three of them, Chanyeol was speaking the least, and making the most progress. He had nearly filled half of his own coffin with the repulsive dirt, and since so much of it had gotten onto his person, he looked almost convincing.

Baekhyun pointed at Chanyeol. “Look, Sehun. You should be more like Chanyeol. Less talking, more digging!”

Suddenly aware that all eyes were on him, Chanyeol hunched over defensively, and began to shovel even more dirt into his coffin.

 

 

 

“Excuse me,” the guard said, suspicious. “What’s inside those crates?”

“Oh, these?” Sehun jerked a thumb back at his cart, toward the coffins that Baekhyun and Chanyeol had packed themselves into. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

The guard puffed up, probably with the sense of self-iportance. “I’m head guard,” he declared haughtily. “It’s my business to know what goes in and out of the city.”

With a dramatic sigh, Sehun shrugged his shoulders, turned around, and pried the cover off one of the coffins.

Within lay Baekhyun, still and surrounded by grave dirt. Sehun had to admit that, even to him, the makeup work was superb; if he hadn’t known better, he would really have believed that the plague scabs marring Baekhyun’s cheekbones were the real deal.

“I was given the order to exhume the latest plague victims,” he explained casually. “The Royal Physician wanted to examine them in greater detail. See, with his expertise, he—”

“Alright, alright,” the guard said hastily, looking more than a little queasy. “Just take your… your cargo, and go.”

Sehun grinned, and pulled the cover back over the coffin.

 

 

Later that day, when they were finally settled into the inn, Sehun decided to ask the question that had been bothering him throughout the entire day.

“How in the world did you manage to make the plague scabs so realistic?” He marveled. “They look just as awful as I remembered.”

Baekhyun blinked at him. “What on earth are you talking about? They _were_ real,” he said, and suddenly Sehun was now feeling quite queasy as well.


	11. interlude 3

It was nearby.

Tao could feel it in his bones. His magic—though ages old—called out to him, _sang_ to him. And even though his senses had dulled over the years, their edges stolen by age and by apathy, there was no way he could just _forget_ the greatest piece of magic he had ever wrought. No: it slipped past his flesh like quicksilver, and it pervaded his entire being. It was somewhere near, he just knew.

Part of him itched to use magic to locate it. But magic took a lot out of him nowadays. When he was young and unpredictable, his volatile nature had fueled his powers; his passion had given his spells strength, and his tears had given variety to his repertoire. But he was old and set now, and his magic was not what it used to be. There was a reason he relied so heavily on potions these days.

And anyway. Using magic when there were so many people around was just asking for trouble. Perhaps in a fishing town off the coast, he could get away with it. But at the capitol of the Do Kingdom? There was bound to be someone that dabbled in the arts, someone sensitive enough to feel it if he cast a spell. No: though it would have been very convenient to reach out and answer the call of magic, he would have to do this the old fashioned way.

He knelt down by the spring, and began to fill the wooden bowl with water. When he was satisfied with the height of the meniscus, he pulled away the bowl, and balanced it on a nearby tree stump. With a quivering sigh, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a jewel. A red diamond.

His hands shook as he lowered it into the bowl, and he flinched as the water swallowed it up. Pursing his lips, he watched as the jewel vibrated for a second, before slowly drifting in one direction.

Two halves of a whole. The lodestone.

Tao smiled. It was a terrible smile, and a tremulous one.


	12. i look to you

“So,” Baekhyun said, leveling his eyes against Chanyeol. “Your true love.”

He felt a bit guilty, monopolizing all of their time. As far as quests went, his was far less urgent than Chanyeol’s. Being consigned to a life in the ocean was nothing when compared to the threat of turning into sea foam. By all rights, the most utilitarian thing to do would have been to focus on Chanyeol’s quest from the start.

Chanyeol stiffened, and when he shrugged, there was none of that easy quality that Baekhyun was used to. “I’m sure I’ll find them somehow,” he said with a brittle smile. Chanyeol had never been very good at concealing his emotions, and he was hardly pulling the wool over Baekhyun’s eyes now. “You know, if it was meant to be, or whatever.”

“That’s rubbish,” Baekhyun said, feeling a tad irritated. Didn’t Chanyeol take this seriously at all? “You’ve got to make your own fate. If you’re just going to hope that you serendipitously meet your true love, then I can guarantee that you’re going to be sea foam before the week is out.”

Tired eyes met his. “Maybe that’s my fate,” Chanyeol said, sounding uncharacteristically grim. Baekhyun was used to Chanyeol being more cheerful than this, he was used to the happy virus everyone had always teased the gentle giant of being. “Maybe I was always meant to turn into sea foam.”

“Yah, Park Chanyeol,” Baekhyun barked, irate. “You are not going to turn to sea foam, okay? Not on my watch. I won’t allow it.”

A smile spread over Chanyeol’s features like ink on a canvas, bright and genuine, and the image it formed warmed something within Baekhyun. “It’s nice to see that you care, Baek,” Chanyeol said cheerfully.

“Hey!” Baekhyun said, annoyed. “Of course I care, what kind of a person do you think I am?” A beat, during which Chanyeol looked like a deer in the headlights, and Baekhyun thought about it _hard_. “On second thought, don’t answer that question.”

Leaning back on one of the chairs provided by the inn, Chanyeol looked thoughtful. “Do you have a plan?”

Baekhyun stilled. “Should I?”

“Well, you are the plan guy.”

Suppressing a smile, Baekhyun clapped his hands together. “Well, I do have an idea,” he allowed.

 

 

It was hidden away in an alley, tucked away in the darkest, grimiest depths of the city. Nevertheless, Baekhyun had found it.

_Yixing’s Magical Solutions._ The sign hanging outside the shop was old, and likely falling apart, but it was what Baekhyun was looking for. He had been around the city several times, searching for a magic shop, and this was the only one where he could feel real power emanating from within. Whoever it was that ran this shop, he was more than a simple charlatan, more than a sleight of hand magician. He was someone with a real ability, and that was what Chanyeol needed.

“We’re here,” he said simply, breathlessly. His hand tightened around Chanyeol’s wrist.

Chanyeol looked uncertain. “I— more magic, Baek? That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”

Baekhyun scowled. “ _That_ was a sea witch,” he responded testily. “They always charge crazy, jacked up prices. That’s their shtick, they do big magic for big prices.” He gestured toward the magic shop with his free hands. “We’re just looking for a bit of small magic; it’s going to be cheaper, trust me.”

Though he hesitated for a moment, Chanyeol’s mouth eventually set into a line. “Alright,” he said with a slow nod of his head.

Inside, the shop smelled of herbs and incense. There was something musty about the place, like it had been tucked away and forgotten. Baekhyun supposed that such an assessment wasn’t really all that far off; he made sure to stay away from all of the dusty surfaces, desirous not to sneeze and get his spittle all over the place.

“Excuse me,” he called, his voice loud and high and strident. “Excuse me! Is anyone here?”

There was a rustling from somewhere within the shop. “I’ll be right out,” a voice called.

And indeed they were; the heavy brocade curtains that separated the back room from the bulk of the store opened, and a serene looking man glided out. His eyes were hazy and dreamy, but his smile was surprisingly sharp as he greeted the two of them. “What can I do for you today?” he asked.

“Do you do locating spells?” Baekhyun asked.

“Certainly! Lost something? Misplaced a key, perhaps?”

Baekhyun shook his head. “We’re looking for something we haven’t found yet.”

Yixing’s eyes sharpened as he leaned forward on the counter. “Oh?” he said, clearly intrigued.

Nodding, Baekhyun jerked a thumb in Chanyeol’s direction. “We’re looking to find his true love,” he said solemnly.

For a moment, Yixing’s eyes flickered back and forth between Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Then, he leaned back and laughed. “Of course, I should have recognized,” he said, shaking his head. “A sea witch’s work, no? Been a long time since I’ve seen anything like this.”

Baekhyun frowned. “How would you know?” He asked, suspicious. “Do you see sea witch magic often?”

Yixing’s smile slipped, but only for a second. “I’m a lot older than I look,” he said, and his voice betrayed him, sounding more weary and unsteady than he had probably intended.

Baekhyun was going to say something else, but then Chanyeol’s other hand was up and on his own, stilling him.

“Do you think you could do it?” Chanyeol’s voice was soft, his breath catching. The expression on his face wasn’t quite hope; it was a little more guarded, a little more unsure. Baekhyun’s heart swelled at the sight of it.

“Of course I could,” Yixing said with a laugh.

“What’s the price going to be?” The words slipped out of Baekyun before he’d even fully thought about it, and he flushed. He had been the one to suggest this course of action in the first place, yet here he was, casting aspersions on it.

Yixing’s lips pursed. “It’s a simple piece of magic,” he said. “I could do it for free. Maybe I can write it up in my taxes as charity.” Gracefully, he stood, and gestured toward the back room. “Gentlemen, if you will.”

 

 

“Sit there, in the North facing seat.”

Baekhyun watched as Chanyeol settled into it. “Why the north facing seat in particular?” Baekhyun asked, two parts suspicious, and one part mere curiosity.

“Just for directionality,” Yixing explained. “So you know where to go for your search. He could sit in the south facing seat; the spell is going to show where the target is, relative to him.”

With a nod, Baekhyun slid into the seat across from Chanyeol. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Chanyeol looked at bit uncertain, but nodded anyway.

Yixing placed a porcelain bowl in the center of the table, and poured a swirling golden tea into it, until it was filled up to the brim. With a look of intense concentration, he placed a compass on the surface, careful not to break the surface tension. Though the face of the compass was worn from use, the needle was still functional; it quivered, for a moment, before spinning wildly.

“When it settles,” Yixing said, “It will be pointing in the direction of your true love.”

Even as he spoke, the needle began to slow. With each full cycle, the speed halved, until finally it stopped.

It pointed North.

 


	13. if we ever meet again

Luhan needed to get out of the palace.

It was just a tad stifling. With everyone around him constantly buzzing on and on excitedly about his upcoming betrothal, he just needed a breath of fresh air. It wasn’t as though he was thoroughly opposed to the wedding; he was just a little reluctant. And it wasn’t as though he were the only one. Kyungsoo seemed to be dragging his feet on the whole affair too.

His fiance seemed to have reservations on the marriage. He was clearly in love with one of his knights—Sir Jongin—and Luhan fervently hoped that he would use that as an excuse to call off the betrothal. But it seemed that Kyungsoo was just as dedicated to his country as Luhan was. It was disappointing, but both admirable and understandable.

But, being surrounded by traces of a relationship that he didn’t even _want_ … Luhan needed to get away.

Standing back, he peered into the mirror, surveying his handiwork. There wasn’t much he could do about his features, and if someone recognized him then the jig was up, but if he didn’t know better, he would have thought that the reflection before him belonged to a commoner. Raggedy clothes, dirt, smudging… Luhan had put all of his skill and imagination into he construction of his disguise. If this didn’t work, nothing would.

As stealthily as he was able, he slipped out of his room. With no one looking, he was able to steal out of his chambers unnoticed. He was new here, and the only people that would recognize him were his servants and Prince Kyungsoo. And since he’d managed to slip out from his rooms, neither were likely to be a problem anymore.

From there, leaving the castle was easy. As a prince, it would have been difficult making as far as the courtyard unmolested; dressed up as a street urchin, nobody gave him a second glance. He was just one of many peasant boys that scurried about the castle, and no one paid them any mind. The stratification of classes was aways something that struck him as outdated and unreasonable, but today found it working in his favor: it was good to be ignored, for once.

The castle wasn’t in the capitol city, per se, but it was only a short walk away. Luhan walked briskly, enjoying the feel of the air around him, enjoying the freedom of being someone else. He drank in the sights, felt the leaves tickle his head as he ducked under low-hanging branches. This was so much different than when he had come to the castle, trapped in his fancy palanquin, his only access to the outside world being a small window at the side.

Around the bend, the road swerved to the left, out of the way of the river. But Luhan didn’t follow it; he wanted to swing his legs into the fast-flowing water, to feel the cold water swirl about between his toes. Perking up, he practically skipped toward the riverbank, where he tugged off his footwraps and set them aside. Delightedly, he waded into the water, toes curling from the fresh, cold sensation.

“Careful, the rocks are a bit slippery.”

Luhan nearly jumped. He had thought himself alone, but there had been someone there on the bank, tucked out of sight behind a rather large boulder.

It was a pointy young man, barely past the end of boyhood. His face was stoic and cold, and yet there had been a warmth to his voice, a friendly concern. There was something familiar about him, something that tugged at the heavy corners of Luhan’s memory. And yet, he just couldn’t _quite_ remember.

Dismissing it as unimportant, he turned his attention to the young man.

“You scared me,” he accused. “What if I’d jumped and lost my balance? I’d have slipped into the water, and it’d have been your fault.”

The other scoffed. “I’m an excellent swimmer; I’d just have fished you out.”

Luhan had to suppress a smile at that; the words, with their boastful confidence, were quite endearing. His fisherman boy had said something similar, all those years ago when he’d fished Luhan out from the middle of the ocean, where his ship had struck a reef and sank.

Stepping out of the water, Luhan shook his feet once, twice, getting the droplets everywhere. Slowly, he padded over to where the other man sat, and plopped down beside him.

“What’s your name?” Luhan asked. “Mine is Xialu.” It was an identity he’d cobbled together through the years. It was easier to get your story straight when you stuck to a handful of facts time and time again; less chance of a freudian slip, or some other kind of similar mistake.

A careful smile, small but genuine. “My name is Sehun.”

Luhan froze, and _finally_  the memories came rushing at him like a maelstrom.


End file.
